Wearing The Pants
by awomanking
Summary: Triple H is unfazed by CM Punk's pipe bomb. Paul Levesque has had enough of it. It's a shame that Stephanie's the one to pay the price. Takes place during/after the 11/29/2011 edition of RAW.


**Wearing The Pants**

One Shot

"_I mean your wife's the one who runs the show around here anyway… Let's face it; you don't wear the pants in the family. But you do wear her panties, don't you?" _

She cringed as soon as the words left Phil Books' mouth. This was bad. This was so bad. Stephanie knew her husband so well that she could distinguish the levels to his anger. Simply by watching his expressions, she knew whether Paul Levesque was irritated or irate. She was also well aware of when his anger was for the sake of the WWE universe or genuine.

At that moment, his anger was very real. Phil probably couldn't pick up on it. To him, this was still CM Punk and Triple H talking. He loved this Reality Era that they had all found themselves in. And he knew that the fans loved it too. Well, despite the PG rating that is, but nothing could be done about that for now. Phil pushed the boundaries. He blurred the lines between the script and real life. This time, he had ventured too far into the realm of the real world.

It had been years since her husband was bothered by peoples' ignorant opinions of him and their relationship. But lately, things had been tough. With his new position in the corporate world of the WWE and her slowly but surely gravitating towards being the official leader of the company, insults had been coming from all directions. Of course, these slights were never said to them directly. No, it was much worse. Offensive questions and judgments regarding them, their marriage, their intentions, _their_ _family_, were all whispered. Rumors and hearsay of who said what about them were floating around now more than ever. It felt like all those years ago when they had first gotten together.

To be frank, it was getting annoying. For many years, they had both made peace with the fact that the gossip and speculation regarding their relationship would never end. However, things had quieted down for some time. Ten years of marriage and three daughters was surely proof enough that _this_ was for _real_; apparently not.

"_Pipe bomb."_

Stephanie cringed again. Paul's face was completely blank as he looked up at Kevin. This was a dead give away for him being truly angry. No one but her was aware of it. Finally, he announced the match for 'Night of Champions' and signed off. She smirked as her husband insinuated for both men in the ring to suck it. She was sure the gesture was for more than just the benefit of Nash and Punk. He had commented many times before that the people, all the people, who were against them, could suck it. The people who simply couldn't and wouldn't let them live in peace.

When he made his way backstage, he barely spared Stephanie a glance. Her father quickly patted him on the back for selling his restrained businessman act so well and then scurried off to wherever else he was needed. Soon after, Phil and Kevin joined him. The three men exchanged the usual platitudes after a well-shot promo and went their separate ways. Paul took his seat beside her at the monitors.

"Paul," she whispered.

"What's up, Steph?" His voice chipper as ever.

She shot him a quick look of annoyance. She hated it when he acted fine when he knew she was checking on him. If he were fine, she wouldn't be checking on him.

"You okay?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

This time, a look of exasperation was sent his way. He answered truthfully then.

"I'm fine. It's been a long week and I'm just sick of this shit. A day off with the girls," he snuck a quick glance down to her chest, "all of my girls, and I'll be bullet proof again."

With that, he focused on adjusting his headset and getting back to work. Stephanie watched him direct a couple of things into his microphone before reluctantly dropping the subject and returning to her own duties as well. After a few minutes, Paul offered her one of his cheeky smirks and a wink. Blushing, she finally accepted that her husband had regained his equilibrium.

The rest of the show continued without a hitch. Tulsa's crowd could have been more passionate, but it seemed that the days of deafening audiences were over. People just didn't chant or boo like they used to. Regardless, Stephanie, her husband, and her father were proud of the November 29th 2011 edition of Raw.

Exiting the arena was typical. She and Paul were stopped multiple times on their way to the car to chitchat about the show and upcoming angles. They didn't mind. Paul appeared to have fully returned to his usual cool-headed self as he jovially opened the passenger side door for his wife.

Thankfully, their drive to Hotel Ambassador was a short one. Stephanie was excited to finally get some rest. This week had been hell and they had an 9AM flight back home in the morning.

"I can't wait to get some sleep."

"Oh yeah?"

"What, you're not? I figured you'd be exhausted. I almost asked if you wanted me to drive."

Paul chuckled.

"Thanks, baby, but my answer to your offer is, as always, no. I choose life."

"I am an excellent driver!"

She couldn't retort with a straight face. A giggle accompanied her pronouncement.

"Ya, for NASCAR maybe…"

"Oh don't be such a pansy. What's the point of being able to afford these fast cars if they're only being driven at 30 miles per hou-"

She stopped abruptly when she noticed that the playful look on his face had disappeared.

"Babe-"

"I know. I know. It's stupid to let these assholes get to me."

"Phil was just doing what he does. It's his style and the fans love it. It's not personal."

"Yeah, well at what point is it personal? At what point does shitting on my private life become too much? I mean it's been a decade of this shit. I get that everybody gets off on this reality nonsense, but I don't." His anger increased the volume of his voice.

"And people know that, Paul. You wear your heart on your sleeve. If they didn't think it bothered you than they wouldn't do it. But I don't think that's what Phil was doing. He was talking to Triple H not you. It's different." Why was she having to practically beg him to think logically.

"As Triple H or Paul Levesque, I still don't like my business aired out in front of everyone. As a 250 pound man, you'd think people would learn to shut up, but, no, they have bullshit political accusations to hide behind. Like I could give a fuck. If just one person, just one, would actually have the balls to say something like that to my face and not in front of the cameras-"

"Babe-"

"You're _my wife_. In both worlds, you're my wife. People should know better. Keep my life and my business and my wife's name out of your fucking mouths."

A low growl from the back of his throat ended his rant. Hands tight on the steering wheel, Paul never took his eyes off the road. Stephanie watched in silence as he shook his head and tried to calm himself down again. Three minutes later and they had arrived at the hotel.

Luckily, no WWE fans had decided to loiter outside the popular luxury hotel where a lot of the Superstars were staying. The Levesques were able to quickly and quietly check into their suite. Walking towards the elevator, Stephanie took her husband's hand that wasn't carrying his duffle bag. Rolling her eyes, she thought of how the man now willingly donned power suits on a daily basis but drew the line at a rolling suitcase. Maybe he was right. Maybe Triple H and Paul Levesque were one in the same after all.

As the elevator doors' closed, she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Don't apologize. I'm a jerk for losing my temper. I love you."

"Yeahhh, I got that from the macho rant. It was very sexy."

He laughed at her teasing and pecked her lips before the doors opened onto their floor.

"I'm excited to go home tomorrow. A day with my girls is just what I need."

His expression was one of complete love as he watched her open the door to their room. Stephanie's cheeks blushed at his words. Over a decade together and he still made her feel like a schoolgirl. She wondered if their love's passion would ever lessen as she toed off her heels and walked towards the suite's massive bedroom. Flopping onto the bed, she stared at the elegant ceiling fan and called out to her husband.

"You think I can convince my dad to take off a long weekend with us? I'd like to get the whole family together for a little vacation."

"We are talking about Vince McMahon, right?" Paul answered from the bathroom.

"I know it'll take some convincing. But I talked to Shane the other day and he hasn't had any time off lately either. I'm sure he'd be up for a weekend on the beach. And I know your mom's been dying to come spend some time with the girls. What if we all did something together? God, I can't even remember the last time we did that... other than holidays, of course. What do you think?"

When she didn't receive an answer, Stephanie tilted her head to look towards the bedroom's entrance. The energy in the room shifted immediately.

Her husband, Paul Levesque, Triple H was leaning against the doorframe watching her. He had discarded his shoes and blazer, removed his tie, and rolled his white button down's sleeves to his elbows. At any given moment, her man looked amazing. With his physique, perfect face, and that hair, he was a sight to see for any woman. But in that moment, he looked absolutely delicious.

It was his stare that did it. His hazel eyes were so intently trained on her that his sexiness, her blood, and the room all rose in temperature. Stephanie knew that look. It was the same look that had her jeopardizing her family's wrath and her professional reputation all those years ago. It was the same look that led to their surprised blessing of a third child. It was the look of a man who clearly did wear the pants in this relationship.

She licked her lips as he walked towards her, all previous feelings of tiredness erased from her mind. His big hands grabbed onto her ankles and pulled her body towards the end of the bed until her legs dangled over the edge and on either side of his. His eyes never left hers.

Slowly but firmly, his hands trailed up her long legs until he could dig his thumbs into her hipbones. She hissed at the slightly painful sensation but began to feel that familiar warmth between her legs at his touch. Her husband was as talented a lover as he was a wrestler and when he decided he wanted things rough, the end result was always in her favor. Stephanie could only try to calm her heart rate as his hands moved upwards, taking her blouse with them. Stopping to give her breasts a quick squeeze, Paul pulled the garment from his wife's body.

She tried to unbutton his shirt but found her hands quickly pinned to the bed with an authoritative force. He wanted her still. She could do that... for now.

His hands left hers and grabbed at her waist. Pulling her midsection upwards, Stephanie was left with her back arched as her husband's head dove to her stomach. His violent mouth bit and sucked on the skin covering her ribs and stomach leaving bruises. His hands lowered to her backside and squeezed her ass through the black pants she still wore before returning to her front to unbutton them. Her breathing escalated as he slowly peeled the material down her thighs.

"Lift up your legs."

His voice was so low and throaty; she swore the sound alone could make her cum. She concentrated on his exposed jugular between the two opened buttons of his shirt and the ever-increasing moisture gathering in her thong. He had barely touched her and yet all she could think of was licking his throat while he pounded into her.

A sharp slap to the outside of her thigh brought her back to reality.

"Now."

She obliged his demand. Lifting her legs to the level of his chest, she watched him remove her pants completely. When he was finished, she slowly slid her body further up the bed all the while smirking at him seductively. Her husband followed her closely, crawling on his hands and knees until he was directly above her.

Stephanie didn't think she would ever understand the power this man had over her. Before they ever got together, she assumed that pure lust was to blame. He was the WWF champion and she was a young heiress. The danger and excitement were surely the causes. But then they slept together. And then they slept together again. And then they started this beautiful relationship. Once this happened, she assumed it was their youth. They were young and in love. But then they got married. So then she presumed their uncontrollable connection was that of all newlyweds. Their three children came next. She suspected sharing such a sacred thing as a child had brought them even closer. But then she finally began to realize that the couples around them didn't behave this way. Stephanie had never caught her brother and his wife making out in their car before a family cookout. Paul never spoke of Shawn sending his wife dirty text messages during corporate meetings.

It was recently that Stephanie McMahon Levesque had made perfect peace with the fact that she and her husband would simply never tire of one another. It was a wonderful realization. He excited her now, after their marriage and their kids, as much as he had in 1999.

"Pay attention."

His words snapped her back into reality. She had gotten lost in his eyes again.

Paul's stare maintained the same severity but his lips were twisted into a grin that Stephanie was sure he was trying to contain. She couldn't stop her own smile as a result.

"Sorry, I got distracted."

"Oh yeah? Well I am so sorry to have bored you, McMahon."

"I didn't say bored, I said distracted."

"Hmm," was Paul's reply. He had bent his head to her neck and began placing wet kisses just under her jawbone.

"Yes, being distracted sucks. You should understand. Seeing as you keep letting people distract you –"

"_Behave." _

His playful tone had ceased with her teasing. Scraping his teeth down her neck as punishment, Paul picked up where he had left off.

"Or what? I mean I do wear the pants in this relationship sooo –"

A dark chuckle left his mouth as he lifted his head once more. Stephanie could immediately sense that his authoritative demeanor from before was returning. She was pleased.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

She was provoking him. His response was to allow more of his weight to press down onto her. Her legs automatically spread further to allow the bulk of him to settle against her groin. A content sign escaped her mouth.

"I wonder what people would say if they knew the truth."

His words were low, hoarse, and whispered just inches away from her face.

"I wonder if any of them have any idea about how all of this really works."

Stephanie's mouth was suddenly dry and she was unable to breathe through her nose. Licking her lips, she dared him to continue.

"What do you mean?"

Paul chuckled again. The sound mixed with her quiet panting and she was sure that by this point she was leaking through her panties.

"I mean everybody knows that you're the one running the show. The Genetic Jackhammer sits at the head of the table but it's his baby girl who's calling all the shots. You're not a princess anymore, babe, you're the fucking queen of the WWE. And I'm just the wrestler who weaseled himself into the McMahon family and now has to play nice with everyone. They see me carrying out you and your dad's orders everyday."

"Paul…"

"BUT," he ground his pelvis into hers harder, "do you think they _know_, Steph? Do you think they know who's in charge _here_?"

He stopped her interruption by elevating his voice and lacing his fingers with hers. Moving their joined hands further above her head, Paul never took his eyes off of her. Stephanie had begun to squirm beneath him but went still with the force of his hands. She was hanging on his every word now.

"_Stephanie_," he cooed, "the whole world sees you in control all the time. I'm the only one who _knows_ the truth. I know how you don't want it… how you've never wanted it. I wonder if anyone has figured that out, huh? Do you think any of these jealous little boys realize that we had only worked together a month before I fingered you during rehearsal? Do you think they know their boss likes to be spanked?"

"Paul…"

She gasped his name. Her cheeks burned red from a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. He was killing her. Their sex life was varied, but Phil really must have hit one of her husband's nerves tonight for him to be this intense. She wondered if he could feel her clit throbbing against his pants.

Paul moved his face even closer to hers, their lips just barely apart. He briefly reached his tongue out to lick her bottom lip.

And then he whispered, "Do you think they know I can make you call me Daddy?"

None of the evilest grins he had ever displayed on television could compare to the smug smirk that spread across his face as Stephanie's pupils dilated.

Jerking her head forward, she attacked his mouth with her own. A groan vibrated their lips as her frustration with being denied access to his body mounted. He was using his hands and body weight to pin her to the bed. As much as she stretched her neck to push against his face, it wasn't enough.

And then she didn't even have that. Lifting his torso from her almost violently, Paul extracted his tongue and lips from her mouth with a wet pop. He laughed at her shocked expression as he sat back on his knees and smoothed his hands down her front.

"Undress daddy."

Left eyebrow cocked, he smirked at the anger in her eyes. And then he straight up smiled when her fingers immediately reached for the buttons of his shirt. She fumbled to pluck the first two buttons she could reach, open as quickly as possible.

"Slower, Stephanie."

Annoyance in her eyes then, but also obedience. He licked his lips as her hands stilled. She smoothed down the expensive cotton before reaching a hand up to the back of his neck. She tried to bring his head down to hers but he didn't oblige. God, she hated him sometimes.

Eyebrow still raised so cockily, Paul's front teeth sunk into his bottom lip when she leaned forward to sensually kiss his jugular. A content sigh escaped her as she finally licked the tempting spot she had admired since he entered the room. Running her tongue along his Adam's apple, she returned her fingers to his shirt. It didn't take long to unbutton it completely as she essentially made out with her husband's neck. Paul kept his torso rigid and barely reacted when she withdrew her face from the crook of his neck. Meeting his eyes briefly, she then watched her hands run down his chest to ripple over his abs. She had married a masterpiece.

"Go on." Stephanie smiled at the low and gentle command. Dipping her fingers briefly into his waistband, she then undid his belt. "Now lay back."

"Ugh," her response was immediate and unintentional. She had meant to stay quiet. "Paul – ahh"

Her husband's hand wrapped around her throat hard and fast.

"I said lay back." The words left him through gritted teeth, which made it sound like he was angry. He wasn't. His sudden movement had rocked his erection against her core and the near painful sensation had made his words come out as a hiss.

And then he was gone.

Lifting away from her, he stood beside the bed as she returned to her back. He removed his shirt and dropped his pants. Next, he pushed the black briefs he wore to the floor. With his erection standing proud, he sniggered as she reached to touch it. Careful to keep her back on the mattress, she was unable to reach his dick. And he made it worse by taking a step back.

"Look at me."

Her eyes immediately met his, eyelashes batting.

"_Good girl._" A fresh blush erupted across her face. "Take your bra off."

Stephanie arched her back to remove the garment. His gaze dropped to watch her breasts bounce free. She plucked a nipple for his benefit before tossing the bra aside.

"Now the panties," and her lips curled at the sound of his breath increasing. She slowly peeled her thong down her legs until it dangled from one ankle. Raising her foot to his chest, she allowed Paul to pull it off.

"White really is your color, ya know."

While he inspected the white fabric in his hands, she brought her knees up to block his view from her most intimate area. He took little notice. Paul snapped her panties back and shot the underwear across the hotel room. Reaching his hands forward to gently stroke her knees, she was surprised at how softly he said, "Open your legs for me."

Her mind, wildly, wondered if there was an opposite phrase for pussy-whipped. Surely, she was whatever the unknown term was. Because her legs seemed to answer to his command before she could even process it. A moan escaped her mouth when she saw the concentration on his face as he watched her.

Running both hands through her hair, she squirmed under his gaze. Her clit throbbed and she found it hard to not thrust upwards. If he would just –

Returning to his knees on the bed, Paul spread his wife's legs further apart to fix himself between them. He nodded his appreciation at the feel of her spreading her them wider for him.

"Yes, baby, let me in."

She whimpered. Actually whimpered. In a mixture of distress and arousal, she fought her immediate response to grab him. She was submitting to him tonight. He needed it.

"Paul –"

"No."

She almost cried out.

"Daddy, please."

He laughed. Laughed directly into her face as she screwed her eyes shut in frustration. One hand returned to her neck as the other kept a firm hold of her knee. He squeezed both. She moaned so wantonly that his dick jumped at the sound. They both groaned when it bumped against her inner thigh.

His big hand applied pressure to her skin as it moved from her neck down the center of her body. Stopping at her pelvic bone, he reveled at the feel of her pushing up against his touch. He would put her out of her misery soon. It was almost sad how she had to pay the price for other people's words.

Eyes on her now seeping core, he whispered, "Who wears the pants, baby?"

"You."

Eyes returning to her face, his stomach clenched at the sight. With her brows frowned and her lips pressed together, she was the perfect picture of erotic pain.

"_Who _wears the pants?"

"You do, daddy."

His thumb moved to just above her clit. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed her groin even further into his touch. Unable to find any release, a choked gurgle escaped her throat. The un-lady-likeness of the sound set him on fire.

"Tell me what you need, baby. Let daddy hear it."

"Mmm," she could barely think never mind speak.

Paul dug his fingers in her knee and brushed the thumb of his other hand finally across her clit. Her entire body shuddered. Back arching off the bed, Stephanie covered her face with her hands as the slightest, quickest touch almost sent her over the edge. She didn't think she had ever been this turned on.

Eyebrows raised, Paul watched his handiwork. Precum leaked from the tip of his penis. They'd barely touched and this was the result. If he ever doubted anything later in his life, he knew it wouldn't be his choice of spouse.

"Come on, baby girl."

Arousal, embarrassment, and _need_ turned her face a deep red beneath her hands. Her husband licked his lips when she finally met his eyes. Hands gripping onto his muscular forearm, Stephanie groveled.

"Please, daddy. I need you so bad. Oh my God, Paul, I can't –"

Her own scream interrupted her. In a second, her husband had let go of her knee and midsection to grab his manhood and bury it inside her. Leaning forward, he pushed nearly all of his weight down on her so her clit could smash against him. Hands pressing deep into the mattress on either side of her head, he struggled to keep his eyes open. The sensation of being above his shaking and submitting wife was overwhelming, but he _had_ to watch it.

Stephanie's legs wrapped around his waist on their own accord as she brought her hands up his sides to the back of his shoulders. All she could do was hold on. Knowing she was seconds away from an orgasm was almost unbearable. She hid her face in the crook of his neck once more.

Paul unsheathed himself from her and dove back in; rocking against her just how she liked. Once, twice…

"Fuck!" She cried into his chest as she came. Body shaking, Stephanie clung to her husband as one of the most intense orgasms of her life thrashed within her. Toes curled, nails dragging down his back, she experienced everything in waves.

With her walls pulsing around him, Paul fought his own release as she came undone against him. Groaning, he clenched his jaw against the need to explode. The sounds his wife was making were unprecedented. Half moaning, half sobbing, he didn't think he had ever heard anything sexier. Having the noises vibrate into his chest as she clung to him heightened the experience. He felt like a fucking king.

When she finally came to her senses, Stephanie had a hard time meeting his eyes. Deciding that his wife's sudden shyness was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, he bent to kiss her slowly. Tongue gently rubbing against hers, she moaned lovingly into his mouth. Framing his face with her hands, she refused to break the kiss as he began to pump slowly into her.

She knew he had to be dying to go faster, harder. But after cumming that hard, she was overly sensitive. He was being gentle for her benefit. Knowing that made emotion bubble in her chest. This man was everything. Gentle, hard, fast, COO, Superstar, son, son-in-law, husband, father, _daddy_. Her love for him bursted within her. _Her _wearing the pants in this relationship? What a stupid, senseless, _scripted_ joke. She needed him more than she needed air.

Breaking their kiss, she whispered, "turn me over."

He pulled from her immediately. Guiding her movements by placing his hands on her hips, Paul flipped her onto her knees. With her ass now against his groin, and her half-lidded eyes looking back at him, she was a goddess. He began placing wet kisses along her shoulder blades as he guided himself back inside her. Sighing with pleasure at being right back where he belonged, he wrapped his arms around her and groped her breasts.

Stephanie hummed her approval. He pressed his left cheek to her right one and watched his fingers play with her nipples. Meanwhile, he thrusted softly into her from behind. The urge to take her, fully, they way they both liked, was almost intolerable. She could sense it.

"Go ahead, baby."

"Steph –"

"I can take it." She pushed into him.

Groaning, he could barely form words. "You –"

Pushing herself slightly higher against him, the movement caused him to slip deeper inside of her, effectively interrupting his sentence. Paul's hands gave away his desperation. Massaging her breasts, stomach, and thighs, he couldn't seem to decide what he wanted to touch more.

She tilted her head to speak against his cheek.

"I can take it," she repeated.

Trusting her, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and he pushed her into position on all fours. With one hand pulling her head back, giving him access to her neck, the other intertwined with hers on the mattress.

"I love you." He said it into her ear, but not lovingly. It was domineering and possessive. Her eyes rolled into her head with pleasure.

"Break me, daddy."

And he did. Pounding into her, he released her neck and hand to grip her hips. The force of his thrusts was almost painful as the sounds of them slapping together filled the room. Stretching forward, her forehead pressed to the bed as her ass lifted higher for him. She groaned as he went deeper still. The feeling was raw to its core. For minutes, he kept a near painful rhythm, and she pushed back to meet him each time.

Though she was always the louder of the two of them, she noted the volume of his grunts. Her somewhat wounded pride from cumming so quickly earlier healed. He was struggling to keep it together too.

But then he hit that spot and she forgot all about listening for his release.

The thought that she might be able to cum again was confirmed when his pace quicken and a familiar sensation crept forward.

"Oh God," she groaned the words into the sheets and moaned again when that set him off.

Paul didn't think he could hold on much longer, but once he felt her reaching a second orgasm, he grit his teeth and bore it. He didn't cum before his wife. Ever. That was something a man like Phil Brooks probably did.

The thought fueled him to continue fucking her. Sweat shined from both of their bodies and their combined panting sounded more athletic than sexual, but it was so hot. Sight, sound, and touch seemed to all work for and against him at the same time.

He watched her knuckles turn white as they gripped the pillow above her and he knew she was done. Three more thrusts and Stephanie muffled her cry of pleasure into the bed. He exploded a moment later.

"Ah, fuck!" Gasping for air, he didn't think he would ever stop cumming. His abdominal muscles clenched and released rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through him. It was the most delicious release. Every muscle in his body seemed to tremble.

Instead of collapsing onto her, he sat back on his haunches with a hand on her ass. Eyes glazed with satisfaction, he sighed contently as she grinded back against him, milking him. He wouldn't ever be able to explain to her just how sexy the sight of her rising on her hands and looking back at him was. Watching a smug, but peaceful smile break across her face while his dick began to soften inside of her was his definition of heaven.

Pulling out, he watched Stephanie softly flip to her back. She reached her arms out to him in an almost childlike manner.

"Come here."

He immediately crawled beside her, taking her into his arms. Nuzzling her neck, he pressed kisses wherever he could reach as she all but purred.

"Are you sated, my love?"

"Mmm," was her only reply. He smiled from ear to ear.

"I'm sorry I was angry earlier."

She chuckled darkly, her senses beginning to return to her.

"After this," she gestured to her motionless, naked body, "I'm gonna be writing that shit into every script. We're gonna piss you off on national TV every Monday."

He laughed openly then. His body and mind completely relaxed. Stephanie laced her fingers through his and brought the back of his hand to her lips.

"Thank you for everything you do, babe. I'm sorry being with me puts the world on your shoulders."

He frowned, "I told you years ago not to say that. You've given me a beautiful life; beautiful babies. I was a dick today. I don't know why I still let all that shit get to me."

His wife smiled happily and then snuggled closer.

"I can't wait to see our babies tomorrow."

"Me too," he agreed.

Feeling her start to fall asleep, he moved quickly to shut off the nightstand lamp and carelessly cover them both with the comforter. Once he was settled, she snuggled into him again.

"I love you."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Go to sleep, Steph."

"Mmm," she tightened her grip on him, "so tired."

"Yeah, it's probably from wearing the pants around here."

Her sleepy giggle vibrated against his chest. He felt it in the same spot where she had cried out her release. So cute, so sexy. An image of the squared circle; of her with a microphone in a business suit; so powerful. Then of her holding his children.

He had the best of both worlds.


End file.
